Thursday, December 26, 2013

I’ve been to refugees’ houses before, never once did they feel
empty or lacking as the house of Wajeeh Ramahi.

As I was going to Jalazon Refugee Camp, I don’t know why for some
reason the words of an Israeli Zionist I’ve met in New York kept replaying over
and over in my head.

“Why don’t you want peace? Can’t you just forget and forgive? Life
is just too short to waist on such useless matters.”

On December 24th, I joined two human rights advocates in
a visit to the martyr’s house; Wajeeh Ramahi. The two human rights advocates
had to gather information about the “incident” for the sake of their protocol procedures. The extent to how they weren’t moved by this astonished me. It wasn’t as if
they were talking to a mother that has lost her child, they were talking to a
case, another case among thousands of others. I couldn’t blame them; of
course they had to distance themselves. This is their daily job; they have to
do this on daily basis; since the Israeli Occupation never gives them a break.

When we first arrived to the refugee camp, we couldn’t locate where
the house was exactly, but it didn’t take us long to find it. We just had to
ask people there, “Where is the latest Martyr’s house?” You can’t say, “Where
is the martyr’s house”; because if you do they’ll immediately ask for
clarification, “Which one?”

So this old man took us to Wajeeh’s house. We knocked and knocked
and nobody replied, then the he took us to Wajeeh’s uncle house and the
uncle took us to the mother. The father wasn’t at home, he had to go to Bi’r
al-Sabe’ “Beersheba” prison; it was his oldest son’s trial that day. His name
is Ameer, he’s 19 years old and has been accused of the horrendous crime of
throwing rocks at Israeli soldiers.

We entered the house, and waited till the mother got ready to greet
us. While we waited, two of Wajeeh’s younger siblings joined us; a beautiful little girl
and the most adorable little kid. After sitting for a while, the mother joined
us and the questions from the two people I tagged along with started pouring
down on the mother and uncle.

They asked some basic information questions, his full name, what
grade he was, his ID number; which he didn’t have because he wasn’t 15 yet, and
so on.

From these questions, we learned that he was 14 years old. He was
born on the 26th. Jan.1998 ( only 3 days younger than my youngest
brother). He dropped out of school, and was into the painting business. He was
never wanted for the Israeli authorities, not for throwing rocks, or raising the
Palestinian flag or participating in a demonstration or anything.

Then the mother was asked when he was murdered. While she drifted
away in her mind in order to remember, his younger sister said calmly, “On the
the 7th of December.” I chocked.

The mother continued, “Yes on the 7th, and I’ve only
seen the body the next day, and he died almost at 5 pm.” Then we learned from
them, that he was in the refugee’s school playground when he was shot. The
bullet that killed him; went through his back, right into his spine and exited
from the other side, killing him instantly. It wasn’t a rubber bullet, it was a
live metal one, you know; the kind that kills.

Then the uncle and mother were asked if they did an autopsy to the
body, they said yes. At first the hospital (Israeli hospital, they took him first to a hospital in Ramallah, then to Haddasah in Jerusalem) refused to do so,
because the IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces) denied that they did anything and
claimed that the shot was from the refugee camp itself. Then when the media
exposed them and said according to eyewitnesses that the shooting was from the soldiers’
part, they changed their story and said that Wajeeh was throwing rocks at them
and by doing so he became a threat to their lives and they had to shoot at him
in order protect themselves.

So the hospital did the autopsy, and found out (as we said before)
that he was killed with a live bullet that went through his spine from the
back, and they estimated the distance of the shooting to be 200 meters. After
the autopsy the family filed a lawsuit against the IOF; which is going to take
months and months for the soldier to be only detained for a day and get a lower
rank like many other cases of the sort.

Then after we were done, we thanked them for their time, and
apologized for the disturbance and his death (as if they were on parallel levels)
and went on our way.

As we were waiting for a car
to pick us up, I asked one of the humans rights advocates what’s going to
happen next. He told me that it’s going to go to court, where the judge is an
Israeli, and it’s going to take months and months and months and at the end the
soldier might be detained for a short period of time, and that’s about it.

He also said that the fact that there are two stories might cause a
problem. One story says he was playing, and other says he was throwing rocks.
The problem lays only in the fact that, and this is completely absurd to me,
the IOF might have a reason for shooting him. I dropped my jaw in awe, how can
that be?

Then he said , “well of course they didn’t have to shoot him
with a live bullet. They could’ve just shot him with a rubber bullet that
doesn’t kill, or threw a tear gas canister at him, or simply arrest him. No
need for a sniper to shoot him from 200 meters away.”

How ridiculous the stage we’ve reached, to a point where it is
better to be shot at with a tear gas canister or arrested or being shot at with
a rubber bullet for throwing rocks. How we measure things is beyond
comprehension.

But I found myself wishing the same thing.

I really wish if the soldier
shot him with a rubber bullet that caused him to stay in bed for months, or to
be hit with a gas canister and only get suffocated and then be okay, or even if he got arrested
and spent 8 months in Israeli prisons. Any of the above would be better than
him being a martyr.

But still, even if he did throw rocks and he hit a soldier; who’s
covered and protected from head to toe from injuries caused by materials such as
rocks. And even if the soldier got scratched a little and maybe bled; Wajeeh
did not deserve to be shot dead.

And the soldier who did this, I mean the monster that did this, has
to pay. He\she has to face the consequence of killing a little child. So as
people and human beings it’s our duty to NOT let this go, and to fight in order
to get this soldier punished, and let the entire world know who this monster
is.

So no, it’s just not fair to forget and forgive. It’s
even unfair to ask, it’s disgusting when murderers ask the victim to forget and
forgive, because life is too short.

Well of course it’s too short; you’ve ended it in a second with a bullet from 200 meters away.

You want us to forget and
forgive, face the consequences and get the punishment you deserve then come and
talk peace to us.

But I'm guessing, neither Wajeeh or his family are willing to forget and forgive until justice prevails.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

I don’t know if I've mentioned
this here before, but at times, certain dreadful times, I curse the second
I was born a Palestinian, and yesterday was one of those days.

His name was Wajeeh. He
was 15 years old. And he was shot in the back and dropped dead with an
Israeli sniper's bullet on Dec. 7thof 2013.

When a Palestinian kid
gets killed I try to completely block what his family
and friends must be feeling right now, I can’t even go there. Instead, I shift
to myself. How silly my life is. How trifle it is. How nervous I was about a
15-minute presentation, and how happy I was that the kids I
tutor aren't coming today so I’ll have some extra free-of-stress
time. And while I was dueling over these stupid silly matters, a 15
year old was shot by a sniper! An Israeli sniper, and he dropped dead.

And I did nothing about
it. I didn't go demanding that the Israeli soldier who committed this
crime be held responsible. I didn't try to be there for the
family. I didn't go to Qalandia checkpoint (hellpoint) and just let
all my anger out on an Israeli prick-head soldier .No. All I did
was; curse the second I was born a Palestinian.

Because it's not okay, and it doesn't
make sense. He's been dead for almost a day now and life seems to be moving on
rather normally. People went to their jobs, kids to their schools, soldiers to
their normal hellpoints, Israelis and Palestinians are
still negotiating ... Life is moving on, and that's not fair.

I wish that for once,
time would stand still, jobs would stand still, schools would stand still,
everything will be frozen, just once; so we can mourn the loss of this child,
so we can be there for his family, so we can bring that Israeli monster to
justice. Just for once, time should stand still.

Then again when
“something” like this happens,we’re supposed to look forward for a better
future instead of focusing on this “sad incident”, we're supposed to
hang on to hope and not let it die, and with it try to create a better future where 15 year old
children who are playing football with their friends won't get shot in the back
by a sniper. But I can’t.

I lose every notion of
hope or desire to build a better future. I can’t even alter the present, so
what of the future? What’s the point of creating a better future when those who
suffered and deserved to be in it, are no longer with us?

Still, this
brighter future will come eventually. But it will never be bright enough or
good enough.

The day when kids will
play football safely, and girls go to the hospital for medicine without dying
on checkpoints, and people walking safely to their houses in Palestine will come.
No doubt. It’s the circle of life, at times you’re oppressed, at others you’re
free.

But when that time comes,
it’ll be too late. Too many have lost their kids, sacrificed,
betrayed, hated, lost, mourned, died, and died, and died.

Rest in peace all of you,
and all those from days gone by, and all those who are yet to come.

"I apologize for using this picture, but the truth should be demonstrated as it is."